


Storm

by Eruphadriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eruphadriel/pseuds/Eruphadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can happen within 16 hours of meeting someone. Especially if that someone is Tristane “Triss” Trevelyan, as Cullen soon finds out after his dog introduces him to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Magnificent Matchmaking Golden Retriever

"Maker, what's gotten into you?" Cullen gasped as Morrison yanked at his leash.

The golden retriever's nose was to the ground, snuffling loudly along the campus grasses. He pulled Cullen along, zig-zagging all over the path and sending students off track. Cullen tried to reign the animal in. But Morrison was having none of that. Instead, the dog scrabbled against the concrete path, straining until the leash was taut and Cullen's palm burned against it.

"Where are you going?" he hissed. "We always walk this way. You know that!"

If Morrison heard him, the dog didn't show any indication of it. With another yank, he broke free. Cullen winced as his calloused hand throbbed with hot pain. He ignored it, running after Morrison as the dog bounded across the emerald grasses. The leash whipping behind him, Morrison swerved around groups of studying students and straight through a tour group of future attendees. Cullen wasn't far behind, yelling Morrison's name and "Heel! Come back! Maker's Breath!" in short succession. As if the humidity weren't enough, frizzing his hair and giving him pressure headaches, now Morrison was forcing him to sprint across campus.

The dog didn't listen, making a beeline for the massive oak tree on the edge of the lawn outside the recreation building. The person who sat beneath it glanced up from their notebook. They immediately tossed it to the side and opened up their arms as Morrison charged into their embrace. Cullen sped up, knowing it wouldn't be long before Morrison started licking the stranger's face. Embarrassment clenched his gut as he hurried over to the person his dog had just run into. 

"Hi, puppy!" they squealed, cupping Morrison's face and scratching his ears. "Look at you! You're so handsome! Yes, you  _are_!"

Morrison gave their nose a lick, sending their septum piercing askew. They laughed and rubbed the slobber away.

Cullen scooped up the leash and pulled Morrison back. "I am  _so_  sorry," he said breathlessly. "That's never happened before. I don't know what possessed him."

They shrugged and fixed their pink-streaked black hair. "It's cool. Happens to me all the time. It must be the dog food in my pockets."

Cullen laughed nervously at the joke. That is, until the stranger shoved their hand into their jacket pocket and produced a dog treat. Their gaze met his, hazel eyes playful in the afternoon light.

"Is this okay for him?" they asked.

"Uh... Sure," he replied.

Morrison didn't wait for permission. His pink tongue darted out and swiped the treat out of his new friend's open palm. Cullen narrowed his eyes.

"Have we met before?"

They studied his face for a moment. "I hid under your desk once. Why do you always run into me when I'm on my knees?"

Cullen flushed at the innuendo. "I... Excuse me?"

"Thanks for covering me, by the way. I would've gotten suspended or something if it weren't for you."

The memory still irked him. Cullen had just gotten up to fetch another book. And when he had returned to the front desk, a pale, paint-splattered person had been crouched under it. She had introduced herself as nothing more than, "Trevelyan", which was shortly followed by, "You gotta help me." She had attended (or rather, organized) an unauthorized protest and was on the run from the staff. Cullen had, while she latched onto his leg and gave him a threatening glare, denied seeing her when one of the staff had come to investigate the library.

"So I see you got away with it," he said, crossing his arms as Morrison sniffed around Trevelyan for more treats.

"They didn't see my face. And I shut the right people up."

"You  _bribed_  people?" Cullen exclaimed.

"Threatened, actually. If they ratted me out, they'd have to admit they were there, too." She smirked. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't plan to."

Trevelyan leaned back, squinting against the sunlight. "I'm Triss, in case you didn't catch it between the protests and your dog jumping on me."

"Cullen Rutherford," he replied. "I've heard of you. Tristane Trevelyan, president of the... Uh..."

She giggled. "You can say it, Rutherford.  _The LGBT-plus Club_." Triss waggled her fingers mockingly.

"So you're, ah..."

"Bigender. Bisexual. Romantic stuff is a bit of a toss up. What have you heard?"

In truth, Cullen had heard rumours that she was trying to overthrow the student government, change every rule in the book, and attend every single party on campus.

"Troublemaker," he concluded instead.

She threw her head back and laughed wickedly. "A rabble rouser, huh? Can't say you're wrong." Triss nuzzled Morrison. "But  _you_  don't think I'm that bad, do you? Huh? Do you? And dogs have the best judgement."

Cullen pulled Morrison away. "Right. Well, we have to go."

"What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

He blinked dumbly. "What?"

Triss rose to her feet and Morrison jumped up against her, his muddy paws smearing over her plaid button-up shirt.

"Morrison! Down!" Cullen ordered, but Triss waved off his words.

"I wanna repay you for not turning me in," she explained, scratching behind the golden retriever's ears. "Where do you live?"

Cullen struggled to find his voice. When he did, he said, "Uh, on, um... On Kinloch Crescent. But tomorrow's my only day off."

"Good," she replied with a grin. "We'll have the afternoon free to do whatever."

"No, I --"

"See you then, Rutherford," she interrupted. Triss stooped to plant a kiss on the dog's head. "I hope  _you'll_  be there, Morrison. Bye-bye, puppy!"

And just like that, she was gone. Cullen watched her go until her hot pink-slashed hair vanished into the crowd of spring pastels. When he couldn't see her anymore, he glared at Morrison.

"Tristane Trevelyan. You had a good hundred people to tackle, and you chose  _Tristane Trevelyan_."


	2. A Painfully Pathetic Attempt at Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triss makes good on her promise of spending the afternoon with Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why the chapter titles are so ridiculous, it's because I wondered what Triss would title each chapter... and I let her.

The clack of two CD cases crashing together filled the quiet room. Triss sat on the floor of Cullen's bedroom with her legs folded beneath her, sorting through his music collection. In some strange method of organization, she had formed two piles on either side of her, which she aptly declared: "Good" and "Rubbish".

"I've hit a death metal mine," she announced, tossing a handful of CDs into the Good Pile. "How deep does it go?"

"Two month's worth of Metallica," Cullen admitted, his arms crossed over his chest. "That's how long the phase lasted, at least."

Triss scoffed. "Death metal -- No, metal in  _general_  -- isn't a phase, Rutherford. It's an epiphany."

Cullen let his head fall back and hit the wall on which he leaned. It had been an hour since Triss had invited herself over. One steak sandwich, can of Orange Crush (both stolen from his fridge), and a wrestling match with Morrison later, he had found her rummaging through his collection. Cullen had only left her for a second to recycle the can. How had she made such a mess in so little time?

He glared at Morrison. The golden retriever laid next to Triss as she sorted.  _Traitor_ , thought Cullen. The only reason she had found his apartment was because Morrison had sat in the window.

With a disdainful snort, Triss threw another CD onto the Rubbish Pile. The addition sent the CD cases sliding all over, an avalanche of iridescent squares slipping across the carpet. Cullen stooped to pick up the offending CD.

"Would you at least not make such a mess, Tristane?" he sighed. He held up the CD. "And what  _exactly_  is wrong with Beethoven?"

Triss leaned back and let out a loud, wet raspberry. "Tinkling across a piano's nothing, Rutherford. You've gotta have soul!"

"And  _this_  doesn't have soul?"

"It has no lyrics. How am I supposed to get it if there aren't any words to... to get?" She snatched another two handfuls from the shelf. "Who even owns CDs anymore?" she added in a mutter.

Cullen rolled his eyes and opened the case. Triss kept sorting (or rather, liberally adding to the Rubbish Pile with frequent, somewhat agonized noises) as he turned on his stereo and dropped the CD in. Cullen grabbed her wrist and urged her to her feet.

"What are you --"

"Just go lay on the bed," he ordered, already exasperated.

Triss gasped in mock scandal. "Already? Well, I suppose I owe quite a few people  _quite_  a few sovereigns."

"I didn't mean --" Cullen glared at her. She was smirking. He gave her a little push. "Lay down."

She obeyed, crossing the room and flopping onto his bed. She crumpled his navy blue sheets under her slender form. Her boots caught the comforter. Cullen repressed an eye-roll, though the urge was overwhelming. He joined her, their shoulders pressing together, picked up the remote, and hit Play.  
As the first few notes of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata filled the room with their musical sorrow, Triss sighed. He nudged her.

"Shush!"

"I didn't say an--"

"Shh!"

She groaned. "I'm already bored, Rutherford."

"Just listen to it. Three minutes, that's all I ask."

"Your music sucks and you suck. Get over it, and stop torturing me with -- Mmph!" Triss squealed as Cullen covered her mouth with this hand.

"Just  _listen_. You'll feel something, you'll see."

He kept his hand there for a moment then, satisfied that she would remain silent, he let it rest at his side. Cullen shut his eyes as the movement hit mezzo forte, the dramatic swell reminding him of snow days in the library when nobody bothered to show up and he could play music however loud he wished. Long, blizzard afternoons where the melody echoed through the massive academic chambers, bouncing off the mahogany bookcases and perfectly narrating the pristine, lonely courtyard outside the window opposing the desk at which he sat. It felt strange to think these private thoughts when Tristane Trevelyan laid right beside him. Cullen could practically feel the snark building on her tongue.

His eyes snapped open when he heard her sniffle.

Cullen snatched the remote and paused the song mid-note, furrowing his brow at the sight of Triss rubbing furiously at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater.

"What's wrong?" Cullen gasped.

"N-Nothing!" she barked in reply. Triss bolted upright and turned away.

"It can't be  _nothing_ ," he said, hesitating but ultimately resting a reassuring hand on her trembling shoulder.

She jerked away from his touch. "It's your stupid song! It's too fucking sad! How can you just lay there and, and...  _smile_  like that?"

Though it wasn't the appropriate time, Cullen knew he had proven that Beethoven, at least, had soul. Instead of pointing out his victory, he took her hand.

"It gets happier in the second movement! Hear, listen --"

"No!" she snapped. "No. I don't want to listen to anymore piano... stuff."

Cullen frowned. A moment of wordlessness passed, the growl of cars zipping by on the street outside all that broke the silence between them.

"I'm sorry," whispered Cullen. "I didn't mean to upset you."

She turned towards him slightly, her cheeks red from scrubbing the tears away. "Yeah, well... That's why it's in the Rubbish Pile, Rutherford. There's a method to my madness."

"What were you thinking of?" His voice was lower than before, as if he feared to be overheard.

"Huh?"

"When the song was playing. What did it make you think of?" Cullen chewed his lip nervously. Though not five minutes ago, he had prayed for Triss to leave, he now anxiously hoped she would remain with him.

She shrugged a little. "I don't know. I was just staring at your ceiling."

He gave her a knowing look. "A mind like yours doesn't simply stop, Tristane. You must have been thinking of  _something_."

"What were  _you_  thinking of?" she countered.

"Being in the library, alone, during last year's snowstorm," he confessed without another thought.

"Really? That's it?" The coldness in her voice was replaced by her usual teasing tone.

"What did you expect?" asked Cullen.

Triss giggled. "I don't know. When I'm listening to music, I think about dancing... Usually."

"Do you like to dance, Tristane?"

"I'm horrible at it, but... Yeah, I like it."

Cullen hastened from the bed and to the stereo. He dug his hand into the Good Pile, produced a CD at random, and replaced Beethoven's with it. He recognized the cover art: The Dire Straits. The electric opening of  _Money for Nothing_  boomed from the speakers. Triss quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you kidding me?" she laughed.

"Up," he commanded. Cullen circled the bed and grabbed her hand.

"You... But..." Triss struggled.

"I know you dance to this when you're on your own. Everyone does."

He spun her, and she became a blur of pink and black and green -- the ugly lime shade from her sweater.

"No, that's just you, Rutherford," she rasped between giggles. "It's all a big joke. Nobody actually dances by themselves and, if you do, you're ridiculous."

It wasn't long before Morrison joined them. The dog got up on his hind legs and balanced on Triss's shoulders. She gasped and giggled as the dog covered her with kisses. At one point, Cullen started mouthing the words. He grabbed his shirt by the collar and popped a few buttons loose in animated passion. He didn't care as they ricocheted off of his shelf and onto the floor. As long as it made her smile, made her laugh until she was breathless and her cheeks were red and roses. Triss snickered at the sight of him, then danced closer and closer until their chests brushed against one another.

By the end of the song, Cullen was gasping for air. He had never danced so vehemently before -- Especially not in front of someone. He turned the stereo off and clapped his hand over his chest, his heart pounding hard against his palm.

"Shit, Rutherford," panted Triss. "You're cooler than I thought."

"Thank you? I think?"

As Cullen tried to fix his shirt, Triss and Morrison looked out his bedroom window.

"We should go somewhere," she suggested.

"I have laundry to do."

She snorted. "Yeah. I'll just sit on the machine and -- Wait. No. Unless..." Her eyes dipped over him. "Nah."

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. No, we need to go someplace fun. Paintball? Laser tag? Alien Blaster at the arcade?"

"Everything you're suggesting involves shooting each other," noticed Cullen. He huffed and gave up on his shirt, crossing his arms over the golden tufts of hair his suddenly-low neckline now revealed.

Triss hoisted herself up onto the windowsill. "Well, what do  _you_  suggest?"

Cullen said the first thing that popped into his head.

"A movie."

At least in the cinema, she'd either have to shut up or risk getting kicked out by an usher. She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"We could see that new horror --"

"No horror."

Triss's pale brow creased in confusion. "Don't like them? What is it, the gore? Jumpscares? Creepy villains? What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever you want. Let's go now so we don't get caught in the rain. I just need to get changed."

"Okay." She crossed her legs.

Cullen paused a moment before waving her towards the door. "Meet me outside."

Triss pushed herself off of the windowsill and tottered to the door. " _Fine_. Just don't lock me out or anything. I have a remarkable habit of sitting on porches all night long."

" _There's_  a tempting idea," he muttered as he rummaged through his dresser drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated and encouraged!


	3. The No-Pants Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an arduous evening with Triss Trevelyan, Cullen comes home and falls into an exhausted sleep. But when the power goes out due to the massive storm over the city, Cullen finds that the night isn't over just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie gore mentioned at beginning of chapter.

Cullen tossed his house keys onto the counter in the hall and rubbed his tired eyes. Claws scraping against the floor heralded Morrison, who scampered from his spot on the bed and bounded to Cullen. He stooped to muss the dog's floppy ears.

"Hey, buddy," he said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry I'm late. Triss made me stay at the theatre's arcade."

 _And go out for dinner. And dessert. And take a walk around the city. And coax her down from the tree in the park. And refuse to go skinny dipping in the lake._  Cullen buried his face in Morrison's warm, soft fur. Exhausted, he wrenched himself to his feet. His routine was arduous but necessary if he wanted to sleep soundly. Cullen filled Morrison's food dish, took a shower, brushed his teeth, threw on a fresh pair of boxers, and crawled into bed. He rolled over to check the weather on his phone. The storm was still threatening. It would probably hit while he was asleep.

A few feet from the foot of the bed, the Rubbish and Good CD piles laid gleaning in the moonlight. Cullen rolled over and nuzzled into his pillow. He'd sort them out in the morning. He started when Morrison leapt onto the bed.  _It was just a movie,_  Cullen chastised himself as the dog curled up at his feet. Triss had seemed fine.  _Even when that guy took off that girl's head_. He shuddered at the memory.

Cullen closed his eyes, letting the warmth of his bed engulf him. The humidity still hung around outside. But in his apartment, it was cool enough to sleep with his covers all the way up to his ears. Slowly, as he familiarized himself the sounds of the building, Cullen fell into an exhausted sleep.

He awoke twice. The first time was to a blinding lightning strike and the following roar of thunder. When he looked at his clock, the numbers blinked and went black as power went out across the city. He cared not: he had a second alarm on his phone.

The second time he awoke was to someone pounding desperately at his front door.

It was Morrison who got him up. The dog whined at the hammering sound amidst the screaming winds and booming thunder. He then nudged Cullen with his nose until he roused him. Cullen swung out of bed. Bare feet thudding through the hall, he ran his fingers through his tousled curls and hid a yawn behind his hand. When he reached the door, he could hear the rain colliding with the street outside. The roof hissed with a thousand raindrops. Cullen opened the door.

"Can I come in?" asked Triss.

At the sound of her voice, Cullen jolted fully awake. When his vision became less bleary, he found her shivering outside of his door, droplets hanging from her hair and beading on her pyjama shorts. Acting on instinct, Cullen immediately pulled her inside.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped.

"My power went," explained Triss.

"Don't you have any candles? A flashlight? Backup generator?"

"Sure I do."

Cullen squinted. "Then why..."

"I was freaked out, okay!" She trembled and hugged her arms around herself, her jacket squeaking wetly. "The graphics of that movie might have been awful but it was still scary. And I didn't want to be alone when the walls started to bleed and the candles went out."

Cullen's bedsprings squeaked as Morrison bolted from the bed, down the short hall, and straight to the door at the sound of Triss's voice. The dog jumped up at her. She stroked his head and cooed lovingly.

"And you walked all the way here?" he marvelled on his way to the bathroom to fetch a towel for her.

She snorted. "No, I flew.  _'Course_  I walked!" Then, in a sing-song voice, Triss added, "Oooh, not a clever one, your master, is he? Or maybe he's grouchy from being woken up. What do you think, Mo? Huh? Do you th-- Hey, now! Get you're nose outta there! I don't have any treats!"

He rolled his eyes and opened the linens closet. "Don't you have any other friends you can wake at... What time is it?"

"Two o'clock when I left. It's probably two thirty now." He came out to the living room to see her shrug. "And no, I don't. Not really. I mean, yeah, I have friends. But I switch back and forth. You're at the top of the list for now."

 _Oh, joy. There's a list now?_  Cullen traded the navy blue towel for Triss's jacket, which he hung over the heater... which was not working, as the power was out.  _Great_. When he looked at her, she was wringing out her hair. Her pink-and-black locks were short, and stuck up where she dried them. Droplets clung to the high hem of her shirt, "SUN YOUR BUNS" scrawled across the chest.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I'll get candles and blankets. It's freezing in here at night."

"Maybe you should wear something more than your undies, Rutherford. It's proper stiff-nipple weather out there." She hummed a little and looked him up and down. "Then again..."

Cullen hugged his arms over his torso, one hand drifting down to his hip.

"Dry off. I'll be back," said Cullen, voice firm but cheeks stained red.

Triss shrugged, placed the towel on the couch beside her, and lifted her shirt. He turned away and hastened to his room. From his closet, he took out two shirts, two pairs of pyjama pants, two extra blankets, and a cardboard box of emergency supplies. Branson had laughed at him when he had put together the box. At least Cullen didn't have to scour the house for matches. After putting on some clothes, he clicked on the flashlight and headed back to the living room.

When he got to the wall between the kitchen and his destination, Cullen pressed his back to it.

"Triss? Are you decent?" he called out.

"Get in here and join the no-pants party!"

"What does that mean? Can I come in?"

"Sure, yeah, whatever you want, Rutherford."

Triss grumbled something, probably to Morrison. Cullen stepped around the corner. He only had to see the rounded, tattooed curve of a part of Triss he was definitely not supposed to see before he turned back around.

"Oh, Sweet Maker!" he gasped, and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment of searching the box, he held the pants and shirt over his shoulder.

"Thanks, hon," said Triss from a remarkably close distance. She grabbed the clothes.

Cullen busied himself with going through the box as he waited for her to finish. He had plenty of candles, matches, a lighter, bottled water, a radio...

"Okay. You can turn around. I promise you can't see my butt. Did you like my tattoo?"

"What tattoo?" feigned Cullen, sneaking a peek at Triss before being sure he could look. She seemed small in his big t-shirt and pants, which she had rolled up a good five times.

She scoffed. "Judging by the blush, you know  _exactly_  what I'm talking about. Got it done by a redhead a few years back. She's good. If you want, I can introduce you. Anyway. Tattoo. Want a better look?"

"N-No! Maker, are you always like this?"

"Like what? It's a dragon, by the way. Heh, considering the reaction, it's a good thing you didn't see my piercing. Wait, do you want to?"

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, which stung dryly. He hadn't gotten enough sleep to deal with this. As he set up and lit a few candles, Triss curled up with a blanket on the couch and waved the flashlight around. Morrison followed its light, his head swivelling with every jerky movement. When Cullen was finished, he grabbed the second blanket and sat a few feet away from Triss, draping it over his legs. Morrison leapt onto the couch between them and laid his head in Triss's lap.

"Comfy?" asked Cullen.

"Mm-hm," replied Triss.

"Good. Now go to sleep."

And for once, she made no protest. Triss shifted a little and propped a throw pillow between her head and the arm of the couch. Cullen did the same on his end. He squirmed around for a moment before finally finding a comfortable spot (on his side, curled into a semi-circle, one hand under the pillow and the other wedged between his knees.). He fell asleep a few seconds later -- for when one finds the perfect spot, the stars and planets align.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated and encouraged!


	4. The Morning After the Worst Night Of His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the blackout, Cullen awakens to find Triss still sleeping on his couch, and she reveals something to him that he hadn't expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I can't take credit for that 'Magic Mike' line. My friend came up with it, and I'll be damned if I don't take the opportunity to use it now.)

Cullen wrinkled his nose at the blaring cry of his phone alarm. It vibrated across the glass coffee table a foot away. He cracked one eye open, squinting against morning's light. He flung off the blanket and snatched his phone, pressing the speaker against him to muffle the shrill alarm before shutting it off.

He ran one hand over his scruffy face and raked it through his hair as he took in the scene. Globs of dried candle wax congealed all across the table's shiny surface. The flashlight still shone up towards the ceiling. Morrison laid on his back, legs outstretched, belly proudly exposed, right in the middle of the couch. A pair of pyjama shorts, highlighter yellow panties, and a crop top laid in a damp pile in the middle of his living room floor.

And Cullen's favourite blanket covered a Triss Trevelyan-shaped mound on the other side of his couch.

Cullen remained seated for a moment, glaring at her as if his stare could rouse her. When she stayed perfectly still, the slow rise and fall of each breath the only movement of her form, he stood and tottered over to the kitchen. Cullen loudly produced a mug from the cupboard and smacked it down onto the counter. He slid it over to the coffee maker and dropped the bag of grinds beside it. As if drink brewed, Cullen cleared his throat. He tore open the fridge, grabbed the tub of plain yogurt and a container of raspberries, and slammed the door shut. The power was still out. He had to use the fridge sparingly. He cleared his throat again, spoon clanging against the bowl as he scooped a dollop of yogurt in.

"Hmm?" Triss groaned from beneath the blanket. Morrison leapt of the couch with a yelp when she kicked out her leg.

"H-Huh? Oh... Sorry, puppy..."

"You're awake," said Cullen, dropping raspberries over his yogurt. He put the cold ingredients back in the fridge and got out honey and chia seeds from another cupboard.

“Yes, but at what cost?" laughed Triss, voice croaky and coarse. She coughed a little before adding, "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty." Cullen drizzled a modest amount of golden honey over his breakfast.

Triss's head popped out from beneath the blanket, eyes narrowed, hair a pink-streaked rat's nest. "You would tell me if you were a robot, right?" she asked suspiciously.

Cullen didn't pause in sprinkling his chia seeds nor tear his eyes from his bowl as he said, "That's classified information, human Trevelyan."

Triss looked at Morrison, who lapped eagerly at his water dish. "Did  _you_  know he had a sense of humour?"

Cullen leaned against the counter and poured some cream into his mug. He took the first scoop of yogurt and honey, relishing in its balance of tart and sweet. After a few minutes of stretching, Triss joined him in the kitchen. His gaze followed her. The edges of his shirt collar nearly reached her shoulders. Cullen furrowed his brow at a strange bump that strained against the dark blue cotton fabric.

"Nipple piercing. So you can stop staring at my tits."

"Huh?" he remarked in a daze.

Triss grabbed the hem of the shirt and started to pull it up before Cullen stopped her. He laughed nervously.

"No, no," he chuckled shakily. He released her wrist. "No."

"Oh?" She smirked. "Afraid you'll short-circuit?"

When Triss let the shirt fall and opened the fridge, Cullen relaxed back against the counter.

"At least now I know," he said.

"Huh?"

"Last night, you said you had a piercing. Now I know where so I don't have to wonder."

Triss let out a bark of laughter. "Oh-ho-ho! You're daydreaming about my piercings, hm? Well, sorry to disappoint, but that's not the piercing I was talking about, Rutherford." She peeked over her shoulder at him. "And yes, it is where you think it is."

After Cullen stopped blushing and Triss had taken a glass of orange juice from his fridge, he regained the ability to speak. He handed her a glass from the cupboard above his head.

"Are you leaving soon?" he pressed.

"After breakfast," she decided, rifling through his breadbox. She settled on a bagel and popped it into the toaster. "I don't have any classes today, and I don't start my shift until noon."

"You work?"

"Lush. You should stop by and grab some bath bombs." Triss returned to the fridge to fetch the cream cheese spread. "We have some sparkly ones. It'd go perfect with that  _Magic Mike_  body of yours."

Cullen decided to ignore the comment. "Here," he said, handing Triss a butter knife from the drawer behind him.

"Thanks. Hey, the power's still out. Maybe I won't have to work! I could hang out at the library... Or..." She turned his back to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Triss glanced up at him and frowned. "I should probably not spend so much time around you, Rutherford."

For the past sixteen hours, Cullen had hoped she would say something like that. But now that she had, he was unsure if it was what he truly desired.

"Why not?" Cullen inquired.

"I told you how I have lots of friends, but you're at the top of my list, right?" She shifted uncomfortably from foot to bare foot. "Well, really, you're the only one on the list. I do this thing where I spend all my time with a new person then get bored a week or two later. And then I never talk to them again."

'So you mean I only have to endure this for a few more days?' Cullen didn't dare voice this thought. Not while Triss stared at the ground, her cheeks stained pink.

"And...?" he prompted, sensing she had more to say.

"And... And I don't want that to happen this time." She gave a shrug. "Maybe if I space out the time I spend with you, I can make this last longer."

Cullen smiled. As irritating as Triss was, he couldn't hold back the warm sense of pride that surged through him, knowing she wanted to prolong her time with him.

"I'm up for whatever you want, Triss," he told her. Then, with a laugh, he added, "As if I have a choice in what you drag me into."

"Damn straight."

The bagel jumped out from the toaster. And like a cloud passing over the sun, Triss's mood brightened once more. Cullen washed out his bowl as she put on way too much cream cheese. The fluffy white spread squelched out of the bagel when she put the two slices back together. She brought her food to the couch kicked Morrison's tennis ball across the living room floor. The dog hurried after it and dropped it at her feet.

As she ate, Cullen got ready for work and grabbed his keys. By the time he returned, Triss was on the floor with the golden retriever, giggling like a madwoman as Morrison snuffled around her face.

"Do you need a ride home?" Cullen offered, jingling his keys above her.

"Sure," she said, and got up. In a sing-song voice, she said, "Bye, Mo! I'll see you later."

Triss scooped up her clothes, snatched her jacket from the hook, and scampered out the door ahead of him. Her clothes had left a wet mark on the floor. Cullen rolled his eyes at it. But before he left, he paused. He shot Morrison a knowing look.

"Well? What do you think of her?"

The golden retriever's tail swung back and forth, glossy blond fur fluttering to the floor in its wake. Morrison's tongue lolled out.

"Thanks for introducing us," said Cullen.

His car horn sounded outside. Cullen started out the door, then halted.  
Wait. How did she get in a locked car?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is just chapter one of four, so check back soon for updates. As always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged!


End file.
